Behind Closed Doors
by TheBluePiglet
Summary: Tag to episode "Till Death Do Us Part". In the immediate aftermath of the explosion, caught between four walls of steel and the growing concern for their loved ones, Tony and Ziva can find solace in only each other. One-shot. Hints of Tiva.


**Title: Behind Closed Doors**

**Rating: K**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Pairing: Subtle Tiva.**

**Summary: Tag to episode "Till Death Do Us Part". In the immediate aftermath of the explosion, caught between four walls of steel and the growing concern for their loved ones, Tony and Ziva can find solace in only each other. One-shot. Hints of Tiva.**

**A/N: The finale, I mean oh my God… I just can't. September come soon, I beg you.**

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**Behind Closed Doors**

By: TheBluePiglet

"Hey, Ziva," It's Tony's light words which fills the silence. "Guess what?"

She would've sighed, had it not been for her sore ribs aching in protest. "What?"

"This blows. Get it?"

Whether it's the encouraging grin spreading on his lips or the fact that they've been trapped for nearly three hours she doesn't know, but she smiles nonetheless. "You are a child, Tony."

"I may be many things, but sadly that is not one of them." He shoots her a suggestive look. "I have proof you know."

"Thinning hair, yes?" She suggests, earning herself a dry chuckle from the other side of the elevator.

"That's low David, even for you." His eyes once again light up in realization not a second later. "And you're only like what, five foot six?"

"I think you hit your head harder than I realized."

"Can't argue with you there," He raises a careful hand to the pulsating spot just above his right temple. "Hurts like hell."

"Here, let me see." She waves for him to come closer, unwilling to move herself. Rib injuries really were, as Tony would put it, a bitch.

Instantaneously obeying, Tony scoots closer. He awkwardly makes his way across the square floor separating them until there's none left, trying his best to avoid ripping his clothing on the scattered debris.

Their eyes lock for a moment as she caresses the small bump already forming on his forehead and suddenly her pulse is making itself known, pounding away against her ribcage.

"You'll live," She then states, finally having broken the gaze and gone through with the exam. "But you need to tell me if you start feeling nauseous."

"Sure thing doctor." He jokes, but his partner is not amused. "Really Ziva, I'll tell you. It's not like I'm stupid."

Content with him seeming to take his injury a bit more seriously, she raises two playful eyebrows. "Seven years of experience says otherwise."

"Well hardy-har," He returns ironically, complete with a good ol' eye roll.

In the midst of trying to figure out a clever retort he becomes aware of the little fitful noises that have been accompanying Ziva's twitching face the last couple of minutes.

"Why are you squeaking?"

Against her better judgment she sighs in frustration, generating a load of uncomfort radiating from her side. She immediately draws in a hiss in pain as she tries to regain control over her lungs.

His grows instantly concerned. "You okay?"

Finally having regulated her breathing back to the shallow breaths not as hard on her ribs, she answers, "Yes, I just cannot seem to get comfortable."

"Let me help you with that." He offers, and she watches him move over to her right side, that being her good one, and takes on a sitting position similar to her own, his back propped up against the metal wall. "Now lean."

She throws him a skeptical glance. Sure, his shoulder does look temptingly soft compared to the hard surface of an elevator she's been leaning on thus far, but she still dreads the thought of moving.

"I said _lean_," He repeats, putting extra emphasis in the word this time. "C'mon, It'll be worth it."

Taking bait on his encouragement she slowly allows her body to slide sideways until it's finally met with the warm garment of Tony's suit. She can't help the content moan her new position gives cause for.

"See? I told you, much better."

Feeling Tony's arm brushing against her lower back, she carefully arches her torso allowing him as he goes through with pulling her into a cautious embrace. "You were right."

"Aren't I always?" He grins and his conceited words leave room for a comfortable silence.

It isn't until Tony has managed to wiggle out his cell from his side pocket, trying to disturb Ziva as little as possible, he decides to vocalize his thoughts once again.

"Dammit," He curses. "Still no reception. How 'bout you?"

Her winching as she searches her pockets for her phone is almost enough for him to tell her to stop, but he doesn't. The worry for his remaining team, his family, is too great, even though it kills him to see her hurt.

"Still no luck," She says softly, anxiety etching her face as well.

"Ziva, you don't think they…" He struggles to find a nice way to put it, only to come to the grim conclusion there really isn't one. "You do think they're alright though, right?"

She evades his searching stare. "Don't." The word comes out barely auditable, as if she fears her voice will fail her.

He knows her so he doesn't mistake the dismissal as lack of compassion. He is even a little relieved, for he too doubts his ability to cope had something happened to any of his teammates.

Still in desperate need to occupy his restless mind he changes the subject. "So I guess we won't be making it to Jimmy's wedding after all."

"I guess not." She murmurs solemnly, surprised at the disappointment weighing on her heart. She had been looking forward to it she won't deny, but she hadn't predicted it to feel this hard.

"It's a shame."

She eyes him in suspicion. "I thought you did not like weddings."

"I don't," He nudges her with his arm, where she still lays resting on his shoulder. "But I was looking forwards to seeing you in that dress."

She offers him a smile. "Maybe another time."

If anyone would've asked him he would have blamed it on having suffered a recent blow to the head, for suddenly an image of Ziva standing before an altar, her dark mane of curls posing as the complete antonym of the white dress hugging her small frame, forms in his imagination.

"Maybe in a distinctly lighter dress?" He says, unable to stop himself.

Though remaining on him, her eyes suddenly grow distant, the corner of her mouth curling even further upwards. "Maybe."

Only then does he realize he hadn't been watching from the audience.

FIN

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******Thoughts? Oh and if anyone's interested I recently got on Tumblr! I'm at: thebluepiglet :)**


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